


Living In Your Letters

by redpantsandjam (fullonzombae)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Arson, Hospitals, Kids, M/M, Victor lives, doesn't mean it's going to be fluff though, i think there may be a lot of those, in other words, s4 fix it, sherrinford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullonzombae/pseuds/redpantsandjam
Summary: After the events at Musgrave Hall, Sherlock and Victor are kept apart, with their parents believing that it's for the best. But when your best friend is a five-year-old genius, he's bound to find a way to bend the rules.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As a disclaimer, we don't have a formal diagnosis for Eurus. As I'm not a mental health professional, I'm not comfortable with the idea of applying a label to Eurus of my own accord. As a result, Eurus may not fit any particular recognised condition, and you may feel that I've humanised her too much at some points, or that - at other times - I've painted her as colder than she is. I'm trying to steer clear from any further stereotypes that are harmful to those with mental health issues, and in some ways, trying to minimise the damage that I feel TFP caused in its portrayal of Eurus Holmes. 
> 
> Needless to say, this is spoiler heavy and canon-divergent.

"Eurus. Darling. You need to tell us where Victor is." Violet Holmes crouched down in front of her daughter, ignoring the paper that surrounded her. It made it easier to ignore the voices that echoed in the corner of her mind, that nagging chatter telling her that her daughter was, indeed, 'a freak'. Behind her, Victor's father paced mercilessly, his footsteps echoing around Eurus's room.  
  
It had been Mycroft who had first labelled Eurus a freak, having found her slicing into her skin with the same ease with which Violet had brushed her hair that morning. He'd panicked, the way a boy of twelve would upon witnessing such scenes from such a young child.  
  
The silence was filled by the sound of a pencil scratching over a piece of paper, a red haired boy, his face scratched out, and Violet's heart sank as Eurus began to sing again.  
  
"... Oh who will find me..."  
  
With that, Mr Trevor launched forward, grabbing Eurus by the shoulders and shaking her. "Tell me where he is! What have you done with my son?!" Another shake, and he was hauled away from Eurus by two officers. "That little psychopath knows where he is!" he yelled, before his voice cracked and crumbled into a defeated sob.  
  
As he was dragged away, Violet cradled Eurus, soothing her, not noticing the placid look that crossed her daughter's face. DS Gregson's hand tightened on Mr Trevor's shoulder, attempting to provide some comfort from the man as he turned to steer him away. Sherlock lingered in the doorway, clutching tightly onto his sword, his eyes still damp with tears.  
  
"I can't find him."  
  
Eurus looked up at the sound of her brother's voice, tilting her head as she studied the sword in his hand. "Pirates can swim," she whispered, a grin on her face. "It's stupid if they can't. It's like trying to fly when you don't have wings." She stood and turned to grab a hat from her dresser - black, with cardboard that she'd taped to the side in an attempt to make her own pirate hat. "I'll walk the plank," she volunteered, before climbing onto her bed.  
  
"Eurus, this isn't a game!" Violet's voice was filled with despair, and as it wobbled, she turned and left the room, leaving Sherlock alone with his sister.  
  
"Come on, Yellowbeard," Eurus called from her bed, her fairy wand drawn and poised like a sword. "Come and fight. If you want your precious Redbeard back, you have to fight."  
  
Sherlock looked down at the sword in his hand, his lip wobbling slightly as he fought back a multitude of emotions, before climbing onto Eurus's bed, sword aimed steadily at her.  
  
"I want Redbeard back. Alive," he growled, before lunging at her, knocking her off the bed. "Tell me where he is!"

The sound of her head bouncing off the floorboards caused Sherlock to sit up, his fists balling by his side as he tried to restrain himself. He felt a pang of guilt, despite everything, that he'd hurt her. Mummy wouldn't be happy with that. At all.   
  
"I already did, Idiot!" Eurus sat up, rubbing at her head as she glared back up at her brother.  
  
"Liar!" Sherlock jumped off the bed, pushing at his sister angrily. "You've stolen him, and hidden him, and I can't find him. I won the fight. Give. Him. Back."  
  
Eurus didn't answer, allowing Sherlock to push her back again, allowing him to unleash all of his anger, all of his frustration. "You don't listen," she whispered, pouting slightly. "No-one listens. You're the favourite. And Mycroft's the oldest. And I get ignored, unless I do something really clever." She stood up, brushing her dress back down before she held out a hand for Sherlock. "And I did do something really clever. I've hidden him, and no-one can find him. Why are they angry, Sherlock? No-one's ever angry when I'm clever."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"I told you!" With that, she began singing again, her voice almost as angelic as it had been on the night of her first nativity. "Oh who is lost, who will find me..."  
  
"Stop it. Just tell me where he is."  
  
"Deep down beneath the old beech tree..." She stopped, a grin spreading over her face. "How can you not get it, Sherlock? What's beneath the old beech tree? What won't Mummy let us near?"  
  
A look of realisation crossed Sherlock's face, and he pulled himself to his feet, turning and fleeing from his sister's room. "I know where he is!"  
  


* * *

  
  
Victor slumped against Sherlock as they pored over a book on Victor's hospital bed. "The doctor said I've got hyperthermals," Victor explained, and Sherlock's nose wrinkled in confusion. "I could have died. Well. I would have, if I wasn't a pirate." He grinned sleepily as Sherlock turned the page. "I don't know why my dad's so angry at your parents. Eurus put me there."  
  
Sherlock shrugged, his answer non-commital as he glanced down at the book. "He's not really going to keep you away, is he?" he asked, and as he fought back the need to cry out in anger, he wiped his dry eyes on his sleeve. No tears, not from brave pirates. It was what Mycroft had told him, time and time again. "Everyone falls out sometimes, and I told Myc I wished he hadn't come back from school when he broke my sword, but I didn't mean it." He looked over at Victor, watched as Victor's eyes closed, and sighed, laying down beside him.  
  
"Don't worry, Victor. If he doesn't let me see you, we'll run away together," he whispered, turning another page and beginning to read.  
  


* * *

  
  
He didn't answer her anymore, and Eurus hated it. She stood outside his bedroom, begging for his attention, even offering to play pirates. She could replace Victor, and she could be his best friend. If only he'd stop ignoring her.  
  
Meal times were the worst, when she'd try to talk to him, only for Sherlock to pretend she wasn't there. Everyone could get his attention. Mummy got his unwavering affection. Mycroft became the household genius. And Eurus found her paintings and drawings returned. Portraits of Yellowbeard and Blackbeard, taking over England. Drawings of them becoming mermaids. Sometimes they'd make their way back to her room in one piece. Usually, she'd return to torn paper, the pieces she'd drawn for Sherlock barely recognisable.  
  
But quitting was for losers; quitting would make her just like the other children, and she already had a plan. Piles of drawings lay piled upon her bedroom floor, and on the piece of paper beneath her fingertips, she carefully drew out a headstone, etching Sherlock's name onto the page.  
She loved to hear him laugh, and as they watched the house turn into a bonfire, he laughed like she had never heard before. Loud, and clear. It had worked, and Sherlock had stopped ignoring her. She sat on the stretcher as a paramedic checked her for any wounds more than superficial burns and opened her mouth obediently as her airways were checked.  
  
"What happened, sweetie?" asked the paramedic, and Eurus looked up at her, beaming with pride.

"Do you like it?" She looked back towards the house, before looking over at Sherlock. "I did it for Sherlock. Do you think he likes it? It's so pretty."


End file.
